


New Habits

by thesoundofnat



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, boys in crop tops, crop tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofnat/pseuds/thesoundofnat
Summary: He was wearing that new shirt, the light blue color matching his eyes in a very complimentary way in his opinion, when he was awoken to a voice calling him to the Bridge. Another emergency. Really, it couldn’t wait. Not even for a moment so that he could change into another shirt.Jim rushed out of his room.(Or, Jim rushes onto the Bridge during an emergency wearing a crop top, and things become a little strange and loaded after that.)





	New Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Boys in crops tops. Specifically Jim Kirk in crop tops. That is all.

Jim had never been shy about showing his body. Everyone close to him knew that, but being Captain of course came with respectability, and he wouldn’t walk around wearing just anything, so the closest to revealing clothes he’d ever worn around the crew was a tight tank top and shorts reaching his knees that’d he’d been working out in when they’d found themselves in an emergency and he’d had to rush to the Bridge.

But sometimes he would wear something slightly less appropriate behind closed doors. He really needed to think one extra time before doing crap like this.

An emergency had him almost tripping over his own legs in order to get to the Bridge. It wasn’t late, but he’d been in his room to try to get an hour of sleep before returning, but of course something had to rip him out of his comfortable bed. While he was wearing only boxers and a crop top. And it really was a crop top. It barely covered any part of his stomach.

He was in such a rush that he barely gave it any thought as he burst into the Bridge to try to prevent a random species on a planet close by from attacking them for passing. It wasn’t very hard once he and the leader understood each other, but the stress had left him a shaky mess afterwards anyway.

“We were just flying by,” he mumbled to himself once they’d ceased the connection. “How is that a crime?”

“Captain.”

Jim looked up. “What is it, Spock?”

“I would suggest that you - as humans say - cover up. Not only is it not appropriate, but the probability of you catching a cold due to your weak immune system and lack of clothing is high.”

Jim’s face was on fire.

“Uh, right.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll go do that. Or actually, I think I’ll go finish my nap first. I think my nerves will need it. Will you guys be fine without me for half an hour?”

“Yes, Captain,” they all echoed back, and when Jim looked at them in order to re-establish a bit of his authority or whatever he found them either very much avoiding to look at him or looking away quickly.

Interesting.

And inappropriate.

He turned back to Spock. “You know what to do, Mr Spock.” But Spock had turned an interesting shade of green, and combined with Jim’s flush they might as well have been a Christmas tree.

Jim left the Bridge, not knowing what the hell to do with his exposed limbs.

This had been a Day.

* * *

 

He started wearing that shirt more often, though of course only to bed, but something about the whole experience made him feel a certain way while wearing the shirt. A way he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d been intimate with someone, which was ridiculously long ago.

It was strange to say the way his crew had been looking at him felt intimate, and it wasn’t anything he would ever tell anyone, but that was how he felt, and it was slightly overwhelming.

Jim reckoned this was like being a new parent, in a way. Just the smallest bit of attention and you suddenly felt like the sexiest person in the world after feeling like a human equivalent of a wreck for the past few years.

He liked this too much than he was willing to admit.

He never wore it around anyone else, except maybe Bones who was used to it from olden days anyway. But the idea of something happening and him having to rush out of his quarters again while wearing it was thrilling enough that he wore it every time he spent more than fifteen minutes in his room, and he always made sure to wash it early in the day so that it would dry by the time he returned.

Maybe he had a bit of a problem.

Bones pointed out the recent usage of the shirt once. “Is your room too warm lately or something?”

Jim tried to will himself to not blush. He knew Bones knew him like the back of his hand, but surely this was bizarre enough that he wouldn’t figure it out?

“It just makes me feel oddly at ease.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say, kid.”

“Listen, Bones. Once you wear a crop top you’ll know.”

“The trouble with that sentence is that I’ll never ever wear one.”

“Coward.”

Bones reached over and tweaked his bare side and that was that.

In the end Jim grabbed an old t-shirt that he barely used and cut off the lower part of it. Wearing crop tops had become an addiction, and he needed more than one if he was to do it regularly.

He was wearing that new shirt, the light blue color matching his eyes in a very complimentary way in his opinion, when he was awoken to a voice calling him to the Bridge. Another emergency. Really, it couldn’t wait. Not even for a moment so that he could change into another shirt.

Jim rushed out of his room.

Negotiating with this king took longer, and Jim was very much aware of exactly how he looked now, though Uhura had been smart enough to throw a clipboard in his direction that he could hold in his lap to cover up his bare midriff just in case it would offend the king, who had insisted on them video chatting.

But Jim knew that his skin was visible from all other sides, and that if one of the crew glanced in his direction they would see it clearly. The thrill of that notion made him unsure if he wanted the negotiation to end quickly or drag on.

He was a mess, he had to admit.

Maybe he needed to get laid.

“Yes, I understand that,” he was saying as the king once again told him that they should’ve warned them before arriving. “But we never planned on landing on your planet. We still don’t plan on doing it. We just had to fly slightly too close in order to avoid a meteor.”

The king grumbled something untranslatable, but in the end they ceased the connection with an agreement to not attack each other. Jim was relieved.

“It’s like we have a reputation of attacking everyone we come across,” Jim said, casually putting the clipboard aside. “Do I look like the type of person to be that heartless?”

“Appearances do not matter in these circumstances,” Spock said. “They cannot know if we are enemies or friends, and they only act logically in the hopes of protecting their people.”

Jim turned to him with a grin he couldn’t help. “I was joking, Spock.”

Spock absolutely refused to look at him, which was interesting since the Vulcan didn’t usually care if staring was appropriate or not. Jim wanted him to look, but he knew that him not looking was the biggest compliment he could get from him. He felt his face heat up, which it had been doing quite often lately, especially around Spock.

He was happy Bones wasn’t around, because he would for sure notice, that bastard.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I should probably go change.”

“That would be the appropriate option.”

“You do know not everything needs to be appropriate, don’t you, Spock?”

Spock met his gaze now, and Jim could see something in his face that he couldn’t entirely pinpoint. “It does when we are in a professional environment.”

_Oh._

Okay then.

Jim swallowed thickly. “The Bridge is indeed a professional environment,” he replied lamely, getting up and refusing to look at anyone. The atmosphere suddenly felt loaded with something. Something he hadn’t felt in forever.

He left the room. Spock didn’t follow. Jim really really wanted him to follow.

* * *

 

Jim didn’t wear his crop tops for two weeks, instead opting for baggy t-shirts or sweaters when he was out of his work clothes. Anything that wouldn’t make anyone look at him twice. He wasn’t sure attention was what he needed.

At least not from just anyone.

When he was called onto the Bridge during another emergency he was wearing a gray t-shirt that could basically be a short dress if he opted to style it that way. He felt sloppy sitting in his chair once the emergency was over, but he reckoned it was better than feeling attractive during the wrong time. No one so much as batted an eye at his attire.

Maybe it was for the better.

“Are you cold now all of a sudden?” Bones asked him one evening, pointing at his navy blue sweater.

“My soul is cold.”

“Okay, drama queen.” He stabbed at his dinner. “No, seriously. I know something’s been up. Just can’t really pinpoint what, exactly.”

“Don’t sweat it, Bones. It’s nothing serious.”

“If it becomes serious, you’d tell me, right?”

“Right.”

Bones hook his head. “You won’t tell me a word, will you?”

Jim shot him a smile. “No comment.”

But Bones wasn’t the only one who had noticed that something was up, even if some of his crew members simply commented on his surprisingly large collection of various sweaters. Jim wished they would all leave his wardrobe out of this, but he knew it was mostly his own fault anyway.

The two weeks of sweaters and t-shirts came to an end when Spock visited him in his quarters one evening. Jim was in the middle of changing out of his work clothes when he was alerted to a knock on the door, and he’d been so certain it was Bones that he went to open it without putting his sleep shirt on.

To say both he and Spock were surprised would be an understatement.

“Spock!” he exclaimed, his voice more high pitched than he would ever admit. “What are you doing here? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you. I mean-” He broke eye contact to grin incredulously at his own flustered babbling. “I didn’t expect you to show up at this hour.”

Spock hadn’t moved a muscle, but Jim could somehow tell he wasn’t as calm as he seemed. “I apologize for the time, Jim.” He didn’t offer any sort of explanation to why he was here, so Jim just stepped aside to let him in.

Jim pulled on a t-shirt and they had tea, which was a strange thing to be drinking when you felt as if your heart was trying to escape from your chest. Jim wasn’t sure why he felt that.

Spock didn’t say much, so Jim started talking way too much to compensate. It was a mess.

He could tell that Spock wanted to bring something up, but wasn’t. He hadn’t ever seen the Vulcan not say what was on his mind.

Something had to be wrong.

He kept sipping on his tea.

“The temperature of the room does not come across as neither cold nor warm to me,” Spock suddenly said.

Jim put his cup down. “What do you mean?” he asked, knowing full well what he was indicating.

“Your usage of certain pieces of attire does not seem logical, if the temperature has been the main reason.”

Jim licked his lips. “It hasn’t.”

Spock blinked. “Then, if I may ask-”

“It’s… complicated.”

“I am certain there must be a logical explanation.”

“Oh, there is. I just don’t think it’s very logical to anyone but myself.”

“I must say I never noticed your choice of clothing until-”

“Until I started wearing crop tops.”

Spock took slightly too long to reply. “Yes.”

Jim averted his eyes. “Neither did I. I never used to care too much, and then… then I guess I cared too much. I was much too aware of how others would look at me depending on what I wore. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It is simply human.”

“Was that an insult?”

“I can assure you it was not.”

Jim grinned, and Spock’s face seemed to soften.

“I felt this weird need to show off my body, if only to myself. Now I feel the opposite. I guess I became too self conscious.” If he and Spock hadn’t gotten so much closer during the past year he would never have admitted this, but Spock drank his words as if he hadn’t ever tasted anything sweeter.

“Jim, I-” Spock cut himself off, which was intriguing enough for Jim to finally look at him properly again.

“Yes, Spock?”

“I have an illogical urge to make a confession.”

“You don’t have to be a slave to logic at all times, you know.”

“I prefer your other choice of attire.”

The Christmas tree was back in full force, only this time it didn’t seem as if it was about to turn off anytime soon. Despite an overwhelming need to look away, Jim kept his gaze on Spock who seemed to be going through the same struggle. None of them moved.

“Is that so?” Jim finally breathed out, aware of how easily their Christmas tree could catch fire with how loaded the room felt.

“Illogical,” Spock said. “But yes.”

“It’s not illogical. It’s natural.” He licked his lips. “Should I go change into one of them?”

“I prefer the blue one.”

“The blue one it is.”

Jim changed, feeling strangely free being back in a crop top, but also insanely self conscious with how hungrily Spock was looking at him.

Once Jim fully realized what that hunger meant they stopped going against their urges.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://thesoundofnat.tumblr.com/)


End file.
